


Gimme Shelter

by Aurora Cee (SC182)



Series: Gimme Shelter: A Walking Dead AU [1]
Category: Fast & Furious (2009), Fast and the Furious Series, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Canon Character of Color, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by The Walking Dead, M/M, Survival, Walkers (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/Aurora%20Cee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could focus on the things that were still real and easy to pull together—his family, the other survivors, the ironic place they found to call home, and the cars they built for safety and distraction.</p><p>The Walking Dead AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gimme Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters herein. They are the property of Universal Pictures, Justin Lin, Rob Cohen, and Gary S. Thompson. I'm just borrowing them for a moment.
> 
> Title from The Rolling Stones, ["Gimme Shelter"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jb-JZPmiEOI)
> 
> A/N 1: After watching Fast and Furious, Fast 5, and Fast 6, I was bitten by the AU bug and couldn't help myself. This is the obligatory Fast and Furious/Walking Dead Fusion. C'mon, our team are basically superheroes already and probably more than capable of surviving any sort of apocalypse. 
> 
> A/N 2: As always, I've plotted out other stories in this verse. However, I must admit that I won't have much time to return to them, so I'll gladly provide my notes to anyone who wants to continue this verse. I'd love to see this verse continue as a long series. 
> 
> A/N 3: Story takes place between the end of Fast and Furious and the start of Fast Five.  
> A/N 4: Mia got the Lori treatment. I'm sorry for fridging her. 
> 
> Tried my hand at cover art:  
> 

When Rome began the grace, Dom bowed his head.

But not before one last instinctual glance around the table, a quick count of his family before he took his eyes off them. Sunshine cast the table in a golden halo and the circle his eyes made began on the right: first with Brian and Jack in his arms, Mia, Rome, Tej, Giselle, Han, Leon, Jesse, Rosa and Nico, and Vince at his left.

He breathed, smiled just a little as Rome started to rhapsodize all the numerous blessings and impossible chances given to this family of his.

The smoky char of good barbeque floated through the summer air, as did the low hum of shifting bodies ready to snatch up fresh grub as soon as the final amen was all said and done.

Slim arms slid around his neck, looping in a familiar arch but the skin felt cold and stiff, and he dared open his eyes. Dom looked up while Rome continued saying grace and faced Letty.

Letty lazily straddled his lap, arm slung loose and deliberately over his shoulders and neck. The cool sweat off the long-neck bottle twisted between her fingers and dripped down his arm. Cool, not cold which was what Letty was as she pressed down on him. Her skin was pale and gray, bruised patches like tattoos decorated her skin and Dom continued to look up, trying to find her face in the darkness. Rome’s voice went fuzzy like a blown out sub-woofer in a trunk; now there was only the rattling hiss that grew louder, more dangerous like the imminent coiling of a snake.

She reached for him with narrow fingers worn down to gruesome claws of bone, desiccated tendon and fossilized nails. Her face—he couldn’t see, not all of it—blacked out by the sun but Dom watched the movement of her jaw that transitioned from the short pop of his name— _Dom_ —to a snapping bite that rattled her teeth.

The sun fell back into the clouds like any summer day, bringing a soft haze of shadow over the table and the still bent heads and Letty’s mouth swam into focus, mottled and bloated black and teeth dripping with strings of old blood.

Letty dropped the beer and lunged for him, her mouth wide and vicious, teeth sharp and jagged, flaked in the remains of something rotten and rancid.

Her teeth scraped his neck.

 

 

 

And then…

 

 

 

Then Dom blinked and fluttered his lashes to bat away the chill of dead flesh and burned through the lingering drowsiness with a shiver. He focused on the industrial stucco overhead and exhaled in the quiet room as he continued to wake up in firefly quick bursts.

This was how he came back to himself by waking in stages. He lied still, stretched across the firm springs of the sofa bed mattress. His back sank deeper with each quiet breath. In and out. In and out. He counted the water spots and the scattered flecks of paint that left imperfections at the intersections of the office’s walls. Counting the spots had become a ritual. One that remained a bedrock of this new reality.

He could focus on the things that were still real and easy to pull together—his family, the other survivors, the ironic place they found to call home, and the cars they built for safety and distraction.

Dom grumbled and cleared his throat, fully awake and at ease.

It was early, Dom already knew, the quiet affirming just as much. Brian shifted beside him, his skyward facing shoulder inched closer to the wall. And the small movement of his turn caused the low metal frame to creak. Exhaustion hijacked Brian’s normally quiet sleep with short rumbling snores that warbled like growls. Dom was used to it now. They’d had more nights of pure exhaustion than peace.

The sound and the heat of Brian’s body were other stakes that grounded him. Despite the years that passed between them, the moment Dom returned to LA for Letty’s funeral the distance was voided. They continued to do their seamless circles around each other, scorching the earth as they edged closer while pulling the frayed threads of their mixed-and-matched family together.

The best parts of life shifted into place back then: Dom got to wake up every day in the embrace of home with all his ghosts laid to rest and Brian accepted the permanence of thirteen-twenty-seven and his place within the family.

Before that even, there was a _miracle_ or a _mistake_ or a _moment_ —the debate laid to rest since there was no time left to argue the intention of words that didn’t coexist with basic survival.

Dom whispered, “ _Mia_ ,” in the air, so low and quiet, her name soothed with the soft edges associated with the sacred.

Mia asked Brian for a final goodbye, her mind made up and absolutely clear about what she wanted. And Brian had owed her more than a simple goodbye and gave it to her until she said the debt was paid.

Dom had been in jail then, waiting for the start of a twenty-five stretch, though knowing without really knowing that the years given would be substituted for another sort of release. The Charger’s hum had purred again in his dreams and he saw ghosts of black chrome in the shade of his periphery.

But that was _before._

 

Because after…

 

The world ended.

 

Dom hated silence before; something that came from too many nights spent wide awake and on the edge of savage frenzy during the first and last days of Lompoc. Now he thought of those days as the warm-up to nights spent in cars tucked off main roads with fingers steady on triggers and eyes wired to open at the faintest shift of air. They'd learned hard lessons about interstates and overpasses, and became quick studies of navigating surface streets that skirted the lines between the suburbs and rural Cali.

In this prison, he welcomed the silence and the unavoidable faint drifts of spoiled meat and mildew. Better that than the ever-present shuffle and gurgled snarl of the walkers that covered every inch of space that the living once had.

“G’ta sleep,” Brian murmured beside him. Apparently, hearing the loud march of Dom’s thoughts. “…still early.”

Even half-awake, Brian made sense.

The radio was silent as it sat isolated in a semi-barren corner. Just a bit of peace in a sea of constant struggle.

He would get up soon, he decided as he sniffed the air. The room still carried the scent of boxed-in air stuffed behind cement and old mortar, though the bad smells were lessened by the stronger odors of sweat and baby formula.

Dom glanced down towards the end of the bed, angling his eyes towards the opposite corner where the bassinet sat. It was a new one that Rome had picked up on a run. He pulled it out the trunk of a modified Ford passenger van. “A little somethin’ somethin’ for my nephew.” He’d said, flashing an almost rare carefree grin.

Nice and more comfortable, Dom knew, but unlike the blunt plastic models they’d found in the clinic, made of four clear sides and a low palette mattress. Too small and shallow, it was baby jail cell if Dom had ever seen one.

He couldn’t see Jack as well which caused his pulse to pick up into an uneasy gallop.

But Jack was fine.

He was safe and alive and that was what mattered.

He was always fine and blissfully unaware. He slept on as Dom continued to survey the room, sweeping his eyes over the corner closest to the door which he and Brian had allocated for their assorted weapons: guns, knives, really big fucking knives, and the shield and plated riot gear.

The radio also took up residence on a bookshelf mixed in with the previous owner’s correction guidelines, manuals, and personal knickknacks from years serving as the supervisor of the facility. Now the various accessories of their lives mingled with awards and personalized office ware that seemed to be nothing more than superfluous junk. Not at all useful for keeping them fed or sheltered or alive when surrounded.

Dom rolled off the low bed as quietly as he could, grabbed his boots and hit the bathroom that was attached to the office. Being the boss had its immediate perks. He took care of himself and washed his hands, grateful for the persistence of independent sewage and water systems that allowed them to hold on to a small piece of civilization.

He rolled his tongue across his teeth and reflexively grimaced at the sharp taste of salt lingering on his tongue. The saltiness that came from dragging his mouth over Brian’s skin and almost biting hard enough to scar, and then sucking down with tongue and too much teeth, riding the sharp line of pleasure and pain so that Brian would always remember. Remember that the pain was a part of them and one of the few things that they would always have. Every ounce of pain—blood spilled, lives lost, hope frayed—and pleasure—the prickle of stubble over the rim of lips, the splaying of blunt fingers across an unforgiving chest and muscled hips, and the slick slide of cock on cock—meant they were still alive.

Looking back into the office turned living quarters, he watched Brian sleep, not moving more than necessary and counted the bandages on Brian’s arms and the scratches across his naked shoulders and the red welts and wheals that littered Brian’s back, the latter the only ones that came from Dom.

He couldn’t rightfully say that the day before had been too close. Because it had only been hours. Just hours since Brian had _almost_ …almost been too close.

Dom took a large draw of mouthwash into his mouth and worked it furiously then spat into the sink. As much as he needed to be in, he needed to be out in the open even more.

He carried his boots and lifted his shotgun and buck knife from the corner and slipped out of the door into the darkness of the hall.

He greeted the stillness with a smile.

* * *

 

Outside, a couple of sets of bleachers paralleled the basketball court on one side before the ground slanted down into short flat grass. The lot was now divided into rows of growing fruits and vegetables; there were even tiny vines curling up posts that promised grapes in the future. There would be food and flowers thanks to the endless California sun.

On the other end of the building where the SWAT bunker house and kennels stood, they had a few animals, a couple of dogs that had followed them back, chickens, a pig, a turkey, a few horses, and a nest of bees that one of the former locals had found and had taken to taming.

He’d waved to the guys in the tower—a year ago the unlikeliest of buddies: a Hell’s Angel and a Mongol—when he’d first come out to sit. They kept guard over the west end of the perimeter, watching for walkers and signs of human life.

The brutal irony of waking up here was not lost on Dom. The one place he would have given his soul to stay out of was the only place that his family and their people could find to give them salvation. The four rows of fences that encircled the Monterrey County Jail, formerly known as the Jericho Jail, were the only real protection that separated them from the shuffling wave of walkers that swelled each day.

He regarded the walkers with a cool look.

The corpses that walked and were driven to feed that came at them day and night.

Shit like this happened in movies. Seeing what was once a man with half a face and whittled down fingers like dried sticks reaching for Mia as it stumbled up their drive slammed through the veil between fantasy and reality like a semi. Shit went from real to HD in a blink and since then nothing with a pulse was safe.

It was an hour before real dawn when twilight was beginning to slowly bleed away the shadows, Dom stared out into the distance where the low rumbling wheeze and hiss of the walkers emanated. The lowly rattle of the chain link fence disturbed the otherwise silence of the early morning.

Dom didn’t turn around when the heavy steel door that fed into the yard opened. He saw the night patrol wave down and gathered that it was a friendly, specifically one friendly that Dom had seen very recently.

Brian climbed the bleachers in a few silent strides. He unslung the M-16 from around his back with one arm and placed it on his left then took a seat within inches of Dom. Brian didn’t say a word, only readjusted the sling across his chest, which Dom noted was the low tech blue and white one made of fabric that Brian found inside a sealed up yuppie baby store when they’d passed through Orange County.

Dom thought of it as the peace sling, the one that Brian slipped on when they weren’t standing on guard, waiting for something to pop off. When he could just hold Jack and act like the world was just as chaotic as it had always been. The others with the velcro and heavy canvas were set aside for high alert and the day when the fences would be overwhelmed. The black one was secured in the back of the Charger and the sturdy grey was in the trunk of the GTR.

But Brian wore this one when he could, allowing Jack to be shifted across his chest but still close enough so that Jack could listen to the strong lub-dub of Brian’s heart. Jack slept on with his tiny fist tucked up to his pouty mouth while Brian traced fingers over the soft dark curling ends of his baby fine hair.

There were seventy people inside these walls. All of them Dom was responsible for in some measure; some were lives he’d saved, brought inside the gates of the jail himself, and others had bonds forged by time and blood, sealed into a web of familial connections more intricate than diamond. But only two he couldn’t live without; one sharing his blood and the other, his sanity, his soul, and the awful burden of leadership.

What had it been? Eight hours, maybe, since he’d stood out on the blacktop with Gisele hovering too close at his back and Rome being unforgivably quiet. They’d all been waiting for Brian to come back.

When Han and the others darted out of the trees with a couple of new faces keeping pace beside them, apparently picked up during the supply run a few towns over, the group zigged and zagged, dodging the slow reach of the walkers to rush through the gates.

Dom and Giselle had run down to visitors’ lot to get the gates open, counting each member of their crew as they passed through the chain links.

Han ran inside and immediately slumped in half to catch his breath. “Brian’s coming. He’s behind us.” He said between tapered gasps, still looking back towards the tree line as he recovered from the extended sprint. He embraced Gisele in a bone crushing hug, the force of their bodies colliding and the clap of metal-on-metal weapons uniting broke through the hungry susurrus pouring from the gate. Han's _I love you_ was barely audible but made perfectly clear by the touch of their foreheads.

And then they’d waited.

They waited at the gates, picking off the walkers that shifted towards the smell of live flesh and lured them in through the holes in the fence, stabbing one and pulling back, then moving in to kill another. Until a pile of corpses fortified the barrier as the sun began to slide and shift towards the west.

Turning on the lights around the perimeter would draw Brian back and walkers and others they weren’t ready to allow inside their walls.

But they continued to wait.

Dom hadn’t worried about Jack. Not then like he should have. Jack was with Rosa and Nico safe inside.

No, Dom worried about what he would say to Jack when he was old enough to understand that this world had swallowed his parents whole.

They had a pact. Each member of their family knew it and accepted it. A bite would be met with a bullet. No turning, no suffering. Not after—not again, not after Mia. Never again.

Giselle waited at his back, closer than anyone else and ready to cold-cock him with the butt of her rifle if he so much as looked at one of the cars. The last fourteen months had strained his faith but hadn’t broken it. Dom knew where Han last saw Brian which was enough of a start that Dom could look for him through the dead of night and hundreds of roaming walkers.

Tej radioed down from the tower, “Movement on the eastern gate,” his voice carried over the static. “Coming in fast and too dark to I.D.”

The eastern gate attracted the fewest walkers due to low sloping ravine that separated the jail’s perimeter from the wide field and trees that shielded the exiting road. They passed through the inner series of gates before entering the long solitary loop that had once fed inmates into and out of the belly of the jail.

The gate rattled harder as the walkers shook the fencing snapping and snarling at them as they ran past. They ran harder knowing that the eastern wall was the one place where the curling coil of barbed wire was absent, making it more vulnerable to walkers and people.

They slowed as they neared the red coronas of the burning flares just outside the outer loop. The eastern tower hadn’t burned the spotlight because it was still too much of a risk, even when facing the body staring them down.

When they stopped moving, Giselle rounded Dom’s side and dropped into a crouch, her rifle high and steady on her shoulder. Despite the light from the flares, the body stood tall and black, covered in long ropes of viscera and bits of flesh and dragged a long limb in its hands.

Dom’s eyes stretched and took aim when he realized it was a leg with the sole of the foot pointed towards them. In moments like this there was only adrenaline and the primal chant of kill or be killed controlling his actions.

The body stopped its progression then, as if waiting for them to make the first move, the limb was fell to the ground, more flung than dropped and a few seconds later, arms rose overhead in a slow deliberate roll.

“Not the welcome I was expecting.” Brian said, raising his arms higher and straighter. “Sorry, I’m late. Got caught up with some things,” he joked, his smile through the gore still California breezy. “Chill, guys,” he added, a little more sober but still answered by silence. “It’s just me.”

“Jesus Christ!” Rome hissed, then lowered his weapon. “This is fucked up. You look like Swamp Thing after getting in the middle of a walker orgy.” Leave it to Pearce to say what they were all thinking. “One minute you’re there and the next you’re gone and holy shit! Seriously, brah, screw that Houdini shit. We thought you were --”

Brian barked out a laugh that was rusty and tired down to the core and cut Rome off. “I did what I had to so I could come back. I promise everything’s cool.” He said this while singularly focused on Dom. His eyes which were the only clean thing about him that seemed to beg Dom to understand _. I came back because I could. Always will._

Unlike Rome, Dom and Giselle hadn’t relaxed. Heavy moments went by, the standoff continued ultimate Dom made a decision.

Finally, Dom levered the shotgun off his shoulder and took a breath before asking, “You bit?”

Without hesitation, Brian answered, “No, just stinky and probably forever unclean.”

“Ain’t enough bleach in the world,” Rome grimaced and shook his head. “That funk looks like it’s real deep.”

“Yeah, Rome, you'll smell this in your dreams and nightmares.” Dom didn’t crack a smile or laugh like the others at Brian’s persistence at being a smartass. He lowered the barrel of his shotgun more and Giselle rose to stand at ease, muzzle pointed down at the dirt.

Giselle kept her voice steady and strict. “You know the procedure—med inspection and shower. But Roman’s right, you smell terrible, like shit and old garbage.” This was another score for her unique brand of blunt honesty.

Brian walked ahead through the loop while they followed. Everyone else moved on, because it was another day where they hadn’t lost one of their own, all the more ready to celebrate.

Dom, however, was furious.

* * *

 

Brian curled his right arm under the curve of Jack’s body and dropped his eyes to watch him sleep. His words sounded offhand and lazy when he said, “You hesitated last night. I saw you snap the safety before you knew it was me. You took a stupid chance.”

Dom sniffed stubbornly and gave Brian a sly look. “Didja want me to shoot you in the face instead? That was the only other option and I think we both know you’re glad I hesitated.” Dom answered, maintaining his sight line on the fence and away from Brian and Jack.

Brian easily sidestepped his question. “If we’re gonna survive, we can’t pick and choose which rules we follow. You promised. We all promised.” Which they had done after Mia was bit and after they finally realized that the living were more brutal than the dead.

Neither he nor Dom had been around when Mia had gone into labor when they were separated and neither of them would have been able to pull the trigger. Giselle did it because Mia asked her. Of all of them, Mia and Giselle were the most practical and honest, making them the strongest survivors of them all. It was cruel to hesitate, to allow one of their own to become a walking monster.

“Dom--”

“I hesitated and you lived.” Dom stated with a resounding finality. “End of story.”

After they’d gotten Brian inside, Dom had followed like a dark cloud as Brian went through a series of hot showers to get the walker viscera and offal off himself and through the medical inspection.

Dom put Brian through a more personal version of the inspection process in their room and hadn’t been nearly as nice or gentle as their doc. Brian submitted to Dom’s hands, letting him search every inch of skin for injury until Dom was satisfied that Brian was as whole as he could be.

“You can’t go out like that, Bri. We have enough people to make runs. It doesn’t always have to be you. We’re the ones everyone depends on. Y’know that, right?”

A beatific smile formed on Brian’s lips. “Yeah, I do. I have to go though, because there’re still people out beyond fences—good and bad and we need to know which ones we’re living near." He pointed at the fence, "We know where the dead are, but it's the living that we have to watch for."

All of them had their unique skills that kept the jail and its people inside secure. Dom was the leader, selected by the default hierarchy and innate recognition of his alpha male gravitas. The one that people accepted and looked to for guidance. Brian was his point man, his number two, and his everything else. If anyone had a problem with everything else, they certainly hadn’t walked out of the gates yet.

Once, Brian was a good cop but ethically, he’d been the worst. Yet, the skills he had at reading people, finding people, and giving them a sense of security had allowed them to bring in more survivors; all good people who could fit in and keep their little community going. He and Giselle had brought in more people than anyone else, especially the kids. So far he hadn’t been wrong yet.

Between Jack and the small herd of ankle-biters that now lived with them, there was a sense of hope; that despite the unrelenting waves of death, they would survive.

Brian lifted the small hand wrapped around his finger. “Dom, I’m not going to make promises that I can’t keep. Not anymore. If I can come back, just know that I always will. Just like I know you’d never stop until you’d find us, if we got split up.” _Us_ being emphasized by a soft kiss dropped on the tiny fingers clutching his own.

Dom slide across the bench and hooked his arm around Brian’s shoulders until he could easily furrow his hand into Brian’s sleepy mess of hair. “Ride or die, remember?” Dom pressed close, rubbed the tip of his nose into the side of Brian’s cheek and inhaled.

They didn’t have time for tiptoeing around other people’s bullshit sensibilities. This was the end of the world and whatever any of them had to hold onto was not to be trifled with. So Dom appreciated that Brian let his hair grow out, the length and curling tips compensated for the weight loss over months without a steady place, too little to eat, and too few hours of sleep. The curls made him look less hard and worn. Brian made it a habit to keep his face clean, straight razor smooth, for Jack’s benefit mostly, but Dom took advantage of the perk, too. Not that he hadn’t gotten used to or missed the prickle of stubble on his lips or scratching against his own.

“Yeah, ride til there’s nothing left.” Dom continued to watch Brian, knowing that there was more to be said and only prompted Brian to go on with a small squeeze to the back of his neck.

Dom leaned in despite their apparent solitude, “What else? You’ve got somethin’ else stirring inside that crazy head of yours.”

Brian shrugged into Dom’s side. “We have a good thing here and we’re doing the right thing by bringing people in. It’s just--” Brian paused as he looked down at Jack. Eternal love and pride shining brightly through his blue eyes at the sight of his son. “D’you wish this was just a bad dream? Sometimes, I think if I shut my eyes long enough I’ll wake up. That’s what I was thinking yesterday when I got separated and surrounded. With walkers everywhere and me stuck up a damn tree like a cat.” He snickered drily. “I could only hope.”

The full story of the day before had yet to come, and Dom knew Brian well enough to know that when shit went sideways, Brian clammed up and made getting information harder than prying teeth. When he was scared, nothing short of a butane torch would get him to crack.

“I dream about being home with everyone and just being free. Then I realize it’s a dream--” _Letty goes for my throat_ , he didn’t say, but remembered the ghost of her teeth at his jugular. “When my eyes open and I see the same things I’ve seen the nights before, then I can deal. I know I’m not where I want to be but I’m where I need to be.”

Dom kissed Brian’s cheek and continued up to his hairline, brushing his lips over wherever he could as he kept Brian close.

Brian leaned into Dom. “If you wake Jack up, Imma kick your ass, Dom. Seriously, not even kidding a little bit.” Brian said with a smile in his voice. “The kid’s sweet as pie but he’s a crier. He’s got a set of lungs stronger than my ears.”

Dom eased off just a little but remained in Brian’s breathing space. “Whose fault is that?” They didn’t argue about Jack anymore or his conception, just stacked it up on the pile of bullshit that didn’t matter anymore and promised that they would both die first before letting Jack come to harm. Jack was all they had left of Mia and they would hold on to what was left of her—come hell or high water; the hell part they’d already faced head on.

The sun began to rise. “Jack’s gonna be a fighter. This world won’t be ready for him.” Their kid was a survivor by blood.

They had a home at the end of the world. Home was all heart and they’d never been short on that.

 

 


End file.
